


Ineffable Gothic

by pretti_byrd



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Gen, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Gothic, Implied Aziraphale/Crowley, Implied Ineffable Husbands, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Vaguely Spooky, anyways im gay and i love spooky things, aziraphale and crowley are spooky to outsiders, but no one has the guts to question them, gothic style, outside perspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretti_byrd/pseuds/pretti_byrd
Summary: Some gothic style ramblings about Aziraphale, Crowley, and (more specifically), their usual haunts.(May update quite infrequently, but this is a WIP so expect more eventually)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Ineffable Gothic

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hi hello  
> I wanted to play around with some gothic writing and I haven't been able to stop thinking about how weird and vaguely spooky Aziraphale and Crowley must be to the humans who just interact with them briefly in their daily lives. This doesn't really have a setting in terms of timeline in relation to the book/series, it's just kinda a general vibe.  
> So anyways I hope you enjoy this as much as I've been enjoying writing it!

1\. The Bookshop is difficult to find on purpose. You know the exact address -- it was given to you by a friend. They claimed something about the place is odd and you intend to find out what. When you approach, you won’t realize you’ve passed it until you’re two blocks away. You turn around to try again. Any train of thought involving the shop goes fuzzy as you count the numbers and you walk by it once more. This time as you turn, something in the back of your mind whispers that you should just give up. It isn’t your voice. It isn’t even quite comprehensible. You find yourself compelled to listen.

2\. Any attempt to search up the shop will redirect you to something else entirely. It appears on no maps and has no real online record. As you type in the name, your fingertips tingle with a strange energy and as soon as you hit enter the words in the search bar have changed. You’re shown links to pages about bakeries in Soho. You aren’t sure that this was what you were looking for, but you can’t find the will to question it.

3\. Finding the Bookshop by accident is easy. You were headed to a stressful work interview, a boring meeting, a dreaded family gathering. You find yourself at the front door, only sort of vaguely noticing the strange hours of operation before you enter. The owner is not within sight. You move towards a shelf. Someone clears his throat behind you. He offers to help you find what you’re looking for. (His expression is tight. He is only smiling to be polite. You feel unwelcome.) You don’t know what you’re looking for. You tell him you’re meant to be somewhere else soon. (His face softens. You swear you see a glow around him when his smile turns genuine, but that thought leaves your mind as soon as it appears.) The owner ushers you to the back room, sits you down. The couch is surprisingly comfortable and sturdy -- it looks like it has been around for centuries. He brews you tea. You aren’t wary of it, you have no reason to be. When you take a sip, everything is okay. (When you leave, you almost forget to say thank you. You turn around but the shop is closed. No time has passed since you arrived. Somehow that makes sense to you. You’re perfectly on time to whatever appointment you’d been headed to.)

4\. If you manage to enter the shop on purpose, you will usually only find one or two other customers inside. The owner watches you -- all of you. He is reading a book that looks like it should have turned to dust. His eyes do not lift from the pages, but he watches you nonetheless. You feel many eyes on you as you look for a book. It feels like you are being measured. If you touch anything, he will be right there to ask you about it. Any interest you had in the tome prior dissipates quickly. You feel many eyes on you. You leave sooner than you had expected. You do not buy a book.

5\. There is a Snake in the Bookshop. Everyone knows that it is there, but no one has really seen it. If you catch a glimpse of it, you see only a few feet of its length at a time. There is no way of knowing its full size. The Snake guards the books and it knows where you are. It rustles on the other side of the shelf but it will be gone if you look. Sometimes you think you can hear it speaking. (It is hard to make out words over the hissing, but you don’t believe it’s anything pleasant.) The owner is always near. You ask about the Snake. You receive no answer and find yourself outside of the shop. Your thoughts are filled with teeth.

6\. There is Another Presence in the Bookshop. They are always lurking. (He does not lurk when he speaks with the owner. He does not speak with the owner when he sees customers.) They seem to be ever changing. Today they are a she. She does not speak with customers. You’re certain that she has spoken to you before. You do not remember her words. (You remember how they made you feel -- nervous, full of dread.) Her words are hard to focus on after you catch a glimpse of teeth. You’re almost certain that they were larger, sharper than they’re meant to be, but only for a moment. Tomorrow she will be something else. They are ever changing. (They are sharper than they’re meant to be. They walk like they’re used to having a different form entirely.) He is red and black, resembling the most recognizable feature of the Snake. (You’ve never seen the Snake on days that he is at the Bookshop. Your thoughts are filled with teeth.)

7\. The owner is, by all appearances, a pleasant man. His presence is somehow both warm and unsettling. The Bookshop in general has a pleasant feeling to it. The owner is borderline frightening, but only if you’re looking to purchase something. Ask him about his opinions on specific works. Ask him about ancient writings. Ask him about books of prophecy. He is very knowledgeable and will gladly share that knowledge with someone he deems worthy of it. (He looks at you and you feel the gaze of many eyes. He looks through you and you feel yourself being weighed and measured. Will you be found wanting?) He is polite without fail, even when he is discouraging you from a purchase or telling you to leave. He is only ever genuinely happy to see the redheaded Other around. He does not care for customers and he does not hide this.

8\. It is hard to determine the age of the owner. He looks to be getting on in years, but he doesn’t necessarily act like it. No one can quite agree on a set number and no one asks. The elderly woman at the bakery around the corner says he has been a regular there since she opened it several decades ago. She says he hasn’t changed a bit. You cannot tell if she is joking, but she has a knowing glint in her eye. Some of the older folks who you speak to about the Bookshop tell you he must be the spitting image of his father. There are no photos of himself or his family who must have owned the Bookshop previously inside of the building that you have seen. (Ask him about an event in history. He speaks of them as though he were there, with oddly specific anecdotes that don’t match anything you’ve heard before.) You don’t ask him about his age -- no one does. Something about his presence feels older than time.


End file.
